That blasted dream again.

Heh. 'Gaster Blaster' dream, more like.

You'd think he'd be used to them by now. You'd think after the thousandth time, his dreams would have lost some of their impact.

And maybe they would have, if they were dreams. Normal people had dreams. Normal people had hope. A life. But Sans? Sans had nothing but memories.

His life was like one big Groundhog Day nightmare that never ended. Like a record player on the turntable from hell, with a needle that kept slipping back to the start, over and over again. Playing the same damn song. Perhaps in a slightly different key every now and then, but the outcome was always the same in the end.

He was doomed to reset back to the exact point in time where his life turned to shit.

He could deal with this, the misery of never knowing if the human child was going to step on his soul and turn everyone he knew into nothing but dust. They never remembered it, and that was one thing he was thankful for. He did care about the kid, and the days of finally frolicking on the surface with them had been some of the fondest memories of his existence. But no matter what, for some reason, Frisk always decided to reset, and everyone except Sans forgot.

It meant that he would always be alone in this. A few times, Sans had opened up about the resets, hoping that someone, anyone, would be able to help. Alphys had come closest, she was smart, but not smart enough to come to any kind of solution before it all reset again. Sans was at the point where he had tried every possible solution to end the cycle five times over; begging with Chara, destroying Snowdin with his Blasters, endless years of research, killing Frisk before they could get out of the ruins…even killing himself.

Many times.

But only on the timelines where his life was not worth living.

Every time he had resorted to the unthinkable, it had always been the same. Crouching in the snow, sobbing among a pile of dust, wrapped up in the remains of a bright red scarf.

Papyrus…

"PAPYRUS!"

Sans sat bolt upright on the floor of his room, clutching at a phantom wound in his chest that burned from the memory of being sliced with a knife. He could still see the soulless, glowing red eyes and that crooked smile burned into his mind's eye.

What a freak that kid was.

His small frame shook uncontrollably as he used the hem of his shirt to swipe angrily at his brow in a well-practised motion. He was sweating bullets, and his cheekbones were streaked with tears. This happened so often that it was almost routine - but it was not often that he called out in his sleep. He had been woken by the sound of his own voice, and he felt queasy thinking about why.

Why did he have to remember those times so clearly.

The sound of his bedroom door creaking open caught his attention, and he was close to springing into defensive mode until he heard a soft noise, like the coo of a dove.

"Sans…?"

A shudder went all the way up his spine, and he frowned inwardly at that as Papyrus moved into the room a little. A small ray of light from the lamppost outside streamed through the window and illuminated him from behind; it almost looked like a halo, and it cast his expression in darkness.
Sans didn't respond, and instead leant against the side of his bed and drew his knees to his chest, hugging them close and letting the hood of his jacket fall over his skull and face. This felt right, being in a cocoon of self-loathing, considering what a shitty monster he was. He felt dirty, like his eyes were not worthy of laying upon his angel of a brother.

The taller skeleton moved a little closer, squinting in the darkness, and spotted the unmistakable puffy mound of a fur jacket. His hands flew to his hips as he let out a condescending 'tsk', closing the distance between them in three long strides.

"Do not call out for me, bother, then attempt to hide!" His slightly nasal voice feigned annoyance, but Sans knew him well enough by now to know it masked a great deal of worry. Sans' heart went out to him. Usually when people inquired as to how he was, he would brush it off with a shitty pun. It was his way of dealing with everything, because even if he revealed what was bothering him, they would forget eventually anyway. Sans had stopped trying to connect with people, had become numb to the plight of others, but he never could bring himself to do the same with Papyrus. Papyrus deserved more than that, and Sans continued to make an effort with him even though he knew it was pointless. It kept him grounded. It kept him sane. That was the reason he told himself.

He was disgusting.

The pins and needles that sparked all the way up his arm when his brother reached out a tentative hand to comfort him was definitely not something that was meant to happen with a sibling. But, selfishly, he indulged in it anyway. Papyrus was wearing his gloves as he almost always did, but it was enough for Sans' bones to heat up at the contact.

"Sorry, bro." He offered, peeking out from under his hood. "I guess I was sleepwalking."

Papyrus huffed, animatedly booping the smaller one on the head. "Well, you woke me from my beauty rest! I almost accomplished a full hour this time!"

Sans grinned at that. "The way I see it, you don't need any beauty rest. You're beautiful enough already." He meant it, too, but his guilt wouldn't allow him to take the teasing brotherly edge off of his words.

Papyrus beamed at that, and nodded in agreement, completely missing the tone. "It is true that The Great Papyrus is already enviously beautiful enough, but there is always room for improvement!"

Damn, his brother's innocent confidence always cheered him up. It was completely endearing. Sans shifted his position so that he was now sitting cross-legged on his bed, but he moved his hands to his pockets to resist the temptation of embracing his brother.
He did that a lot. Papyrus would always complain about that certain mannerism, thinking that Sans did it in an attempt to look cool. Little did he know that Sans' hands physically itched whenever he was around his brother. Itched to touch, to caress, to hold.

Sick.

Papyrus sat down next to him on the bed, and it creaked softly with the added weight. He must really have been worried about him to brave the filthy sheets, normally he didn't go anywhere near his room, let alone the bed. Sans sat in silence, just enjoying the other's presence, and Papyrus fidgeted uncomfortably, wanting to fill the silence.

"You look so tired, brother…you'd think with all the sleeping you do, you'd have filled your beauty rest meter enough to rival Mettaton in looks!"

It was his own polite way of saying Sans looked like shit, and he let out a low chortle in response. "Nice, bro. But I assure you I'm just fine. Sleeping comes so naturally to me…I could do it with my eyes closed."

"But brother! Your eyes are always closed when you sl-" Sans' grin grew Cheshire-Cat-levels-wide as he watched the gears turn in his brother's head. "…AHH, SAAANS!"

"Surely you aren't tired of my jokes, Paps?" He chided, poking the disgruntled skeleton in the ribs through his pocket. Papyrus jumped at that, but scowled and crossed his arms in a huff. "Maybe I should have let sleeping skeletons lie…"

As soon as it was out, Papyrus' eye sockets widened with horror and he slapped his hands over his mouth. He had just let a sleep-based joke slip out, and Sans wasn't about to let him forget it. He didn't say anything, just stared at him and grinned progressively wider and wider, and Papyrus refused to look at him or speak another word.

The next night, the memories all revolved around Papyrus. Most were fond, some were voyeuristic, but as always they ended with a montage of Papyrus being cut down by the demon child. Every time it happened, to this day, it felt exactly the same as the first time. The pain of loss and grief, was still fresh, every time. Thankfully, Papyrus was not killed nearly as much as the other members of Snowdin. Frisks seemed to like him or find him amusing; some even went out on a date with him. Sans always kept a close eye on them both when that happened.

He wasn't jealous…he was just being a good older brother. Just looking out for him. Making sure he wasn't taken advantage of. Guarding his first kiss like it was a fragile treasure. Fantasising about what it might be like to be in Frisk's place. Wondering what it would be like to end up in Pap's room at the end of the date. Touching himself to the thought of taking him on that racecar bed…

Just normal brother stuff.

He called out Papyrus' name again as he sat up in bed, but it was different this time. Now he definitely needed to wash those sheets.

His door opened a fraction, almost escaping his notice, and he scrambled to make sure every part of his shame was covered by the soiled sheets.

"More bad dreams?" That soft voice wafted over him and he had to close his eyes for a moment.

"Y-Yeah, bro…real bad." He confessed, using his shirt to wipe away the sheen from his forehead. "But it's okay…I'm fine."

"You say that a lot, brother, but you know nobody believes it."

It was an oddly cryptic comment, coming from him. Sans gripped the sheets and snapped his head up, searching his brother's face. Papyrus was half-hidden by the door, but there was no mistaking the worry etched into every dip and crevice. Sans felt even guiltier than before for assuming that Papyrus wouldn't notice when he was hopeless. He could see that Papyrus didn't know how to help him, only that he wanted to. But he would leave it up to Sans.

"If you don't want to be alone…please come to my room." Then he turned and left, the sounds of his footsteps fading into the distance. There was no sound of a closing door, and that let Sans know that the offer was genuine. He suppressed a sob, not wanting his brother to hear, before slowly getting up and cleaning his mess thoroughly.

He didn't deserve Papyrus, and Papyrus didn't deserve this.

Three hours had passed since then, and Sans was no closer to falling asleep. His mind was racing, his thoughts wandering down the hallway and beckoning at him to follow. He didn't trust himself, wasn't selfish enough to even try, but he did consider Paps' feelings before his own.

It would…be a good thing, right? Papyrus had never offered to let Sans sleep in his bed, not since they were kids and cowering under the blankets to the sounds of blasters outside their window. They had found comfort in each other then, and it hadn't escaped either of their notice that these days they didn't even hug. Sans kept physical contact to a minimum; he could see Papyrus missed contact and how often he tried to hide the hurt in his eyes. It was hard not to take it personally when the most he would get from his brother was a high five or a teasing nudge followed by a terrible joke.

He would do this. For Papyrus.

A soft blue glow surrounded his form as he initiated teleportation, ending up in a sitting position right next to Papyrus on his racecar bed. It was a good thing his aim was so good with this power, because his brother didn't even stir and continued to sleep soundly. Sans' grin turned fond as he looked down on his baby bones brother; his snoring was hushed and punctuated by the odd 'nyeh' here and there. Carefully, he lay down, minding his distance for now and just surveying the other's sleeping face for a moment.

It had been years since he was this close, and he couldn't help but note just how much Papyrus' face had changed. And yet, it was still the same. He was so, so much taller, and broader. It made him sad to wonder when he had missed his baby brother turning into a grown-up. Probably he never noticed, always being bone-tired from his various jobs to keep them both alive, but Papyrus would always be his little bro in his eyes.

He was overcome with a sudden affection, and allowed himself to live in the moment, even if only for a brief time. He didn't care if it was all hopeless in the end, he would take scraps of happiness wherever he could get it. Tentatively and with great care, he wiggled a little bit closer until he was snuggled into Papyrus' chest. Papyrus was under the covers while Sans was on top, and they were both laying on their sides. He could feel as well as hear the humming energy of the orange soul in his ribcage, and he smiled to himself as his own soul picked up the pace inside his chest. Papyrus snuffled a little in his sleep, opening his eyes a crack at the sensation of warmth against him. Sans tensed, looking up at his brother and straight into his eye sockets. Shit, he was too close. Was this not what Papyrus had meant? Was he not OK with this? He knew he should have woken him up first. Was he about to be kicked out for being weird? Christ, he was such an idiot.

His narrative of self-hate came to a standstill when Papyrus smiled blearily down at him, before carefully sliding his hand up Sans' side, letting it come to rest on his flushed cheekbone. The smaller skeleton hummed thankfully and leaned into the touch, noticing with glee that Papyrus was not wearing his gloves. His hand was so big, it almost was longer than his skull, and he closed his eyes at the thought, trying to block out any lewd connotations. Papyrus mistook this for contentment, and lazily stroked his thumb over the cheekbone in a repeating figure-8 pattern. The innocent motion was lost in translation, and Sans could feel his breathing getting faster involuntarily as Papyrus' thumb would not. Stop. Moving.

Papyrus bent at the waist and nuzzled the top of Sans' head tenderly, just breathing him in. "Took you long enough, lazy bones. I had almost given up on our slumber party and returned to my beauty rest!"

Sans let out a nervous chuckle. "W-well I hope you weren't planning on a pillow fight or makeovers, sleeping beauty. Because that ain't happening."

"That is alright, I already do those things with Mettaton – you would be astounded with what he can achieve with contouring!"

Sans' jaw clenched at the mention of the sexy robot. "You two spend a lot of time together."

"Well, sure we do! The Great Papyrus has many a friend!" Boasted the proud skeleton. It was true, he was very likable.

"'Just a friend' like Frisk? Or is that slutty robot putting the moves on you?" Sans ventured. Papyrus' thumb stilled its ministrations against his cheekbone, taken aback by the venomous jealousy in his tone. Sans closed his eyes quickly and scrunched up his face, mad at himself for even going there. Had he really been so obvious that even Papyrus had noticed it? Goddamn it all.

"Who is Frisk…?"

"Nobody. Just…forget it."

"Sans."

"Look, I'm sorry I said that…I just, you know…want to make sure you're not being taken advantage of and the thought of anyone touching you makes me so mad I can't think straight and-"

"Sans…"

"Can I kiss you, Paps?" It was out before he could rein it in. Oh my god. Why.
His eyes snapped open at the question, and his breath came out in a gasp when a pair of kind eyes filled his vision. His whole world was Papyrus, he was all he could see. He was so close that even when his pupils darted uncertainly to the side, he couldn't rid his peripheral vision of him. He expected an instant, explosively disgusted reaction, but he saw no judgement on his face. Seeing that made Sans throw caution to the wind. If he fucked up, well, at least resets would finally be good for something.

"Please." Sans scooted his body nearer, his movement making the blanket covering Papyrus' body shimmy down a little, and Paps whined with surprise as their hipbones brushed together for a fleeting moment. They both stilled at the noise; it was apparent neither of them had been expecting that. The sound went straight to Sans' pubis and a violent tremble jolted through every single one of his bones in a crashing wave when he realised that Papyrus was not wearing any pants.

He could no longer ignore or deny him.

He moved his mouth as close as possible to Papyrus' without actually touching him, wanting the other to make the decision to close the gap if he wanted to. But his hips were not so kind. Slowly, teasingly, he scraped his pubis across the front of his brother's and moaned when he felt his magic beginning to collect there in response. He had a great view of Paps' face from his position, and currently his eyes were watching the space where their bodies touched between their femurs with rapt attention. His hand moved from Sans' cheekbone and travelled South, clutching desperately at the fur of his hoodie as he answered Sans' action with a sharp buck of his hips. A burst of blue light leapt from Sans' crotch, shining brightly for a few seconds before breaking up into little whispy trails of blue smoke. They twirled around each other in a swimming sort of dance before they came together, fusing to form a phallus.

Papyrus made an amazed sort of noise – it was beautiful. It glowed faintly cerulean and the surface looked to be in a constantly moving liquid form, yet the magic kept it together and solid. It almost looked like jelly. The slight curve was very inviting, and it twitched a little as Sans covered his face with his hands in embarrassment, his face almost as blue as his dick.

He was in bed with his brother, and he was aroused beyond all belief. How did it come to this.

Papyrus could not stop looking at it. He had only managed to conjure one for himself briefly before, but it had always dissipated into smoke before he got to touch it.
Sans' however, looked…hard.

Very hard.

Papyrus gripped both of Sans' hip bones with strong hands and held him steady, before dragging his own hips against the head of the dick. A series of shaky moans fell from him as he started up a grinding rhythm, not fully certain how or why, just that the sight and feel of it against himself was making him feel really, really good. Sans' hands fisted at Papyrus' scarf, pulling it down roughly and exposing the pale white neck. It became at the mercy of his teeth as he gripped the vertebrae between his jaws, the force of Papyrus' thrusts causing them to skate across them over and over, adding a spike of pain to his pleasure and making it all the more delicious. Sans had still not opened his eyes, but he could feel everything in perfect clarity, and he marvelled at how urgently Papyrus was riding him. The hands gripping his hipbones were so sturdy, he couldn't move away even if he had wanted to, and that thought pulled a needy sound from him right against Papyrus' ear hole.

"SANS!" The taller skeleton yelped, not really knowing what he wanted but trying to find out anyways.

"O-oh my god, Pap…yes…keep going."
He did. Even faster now, little 'nyehs' punctuating each particularly rough thrust.

"Sans…why does this feel so - a-ahhh-!"
Sans had now conjured a very wet, very warm tongue and was using it to assault his neck. "-S-sooo good…Sans it feels so good, why does it feel so good?!"

Sans' soul left his body for a moment when one of Papyrus' more desperate thrusts caused the glowing blue dick to end up inside of his brother's pelvic cavity. Papyrus stilled for a moment, before throwing his head back and letting out a pleasured, shaky wail. It filled the room deliciously, and Papyrus' whole body went limp for just enough time for Sans to roll over on top of him. Instantly, he bore down on his baby bro, thrusting in and out of him at a demanding pace. It felt tight, hot, wet, overwhelming – he never knew that skeletons had a force field there that made it feel like a pussy. Papyrus enveloped him from all sides, and he couldn't see the walls but he could feel them. Slightly textured, quivering and exciting him all over again to a point he never thought possible. This was new to both of them, but there was no one else they would rather explore it with.

"Fuck, Paps!" Sans groaned, his skull beginning to sweat from exertion. Papyrus moaned in response, writhing around underneath him at the words.

"Sans! Oh god…"

"Yeah, you love it don't you?"

"N-nyeeh…"

"F-f-ahhhh….feels good to have your big bro fucking you?"

Papyrus' hips left the bed as he impaled himself over and over on Sans' dick.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, brother…s-say it more!"
Sans had to stop thrusting for a minute as his little brother overwhelmed him, somehow fucking HIM even though he was the one being fucked. His arms shook with the effort of holding himself up over Papyrus, as the bigger skeleton grabbed his skull with both hands and forced their mouths together in their best imitation of a kiss. Sans groaned against the other's teeth as he felt a much larger, tentacle-like tongue slip between his parted jaw. Their mouths were now a battleground and sans could do nothing but utter profanity into Papyrus' mouth as his own was fucked. The thing was huge; it wrapped itself several times around his own tongue and stroked it like it was trying to jack him off. He imagined Papyrus repeating that motion on a different part of himself and almost came on the spot as Papyrus broke the kiss and flopped down on the pillows, panting hard. His tentacle-tongue lolled out from the side of his jaw, it was glowing a faint orange and a mix of orange and blue spit dripped liberally from it.

"Fucking hell, PAPYRUS!" Sans practically roared, gripping onto Papyrus' femurs and raising them up. He was stronger than he looked, and his arousal was giving him crazy hormonal strength. "That was so hot…I'm going to cum…" He pistoned his hips again, pumping his dick in and out and using much more force with the new position. Papyrus' face flushed beneath him, suddenly feeling deliciously hot all over as magic pooled in his ribcage and travelled down his spine. On instinct, he gripped it with both hands and began pumping it in time with his brother's erratic movements.

"That's right baby…just like that, cum for me. Cum with your big brother inside you…"

Papyrus didn't know why those words tipped him over the edge, but cum he did. The orange magic spurted everywhere like cream; from his ribs, his spine, his crotch…thick and warm, and followed by screams of his brother's name.

"SANS! N-NYE-YES-S-S-S-S!" His voice came out in short huffs as Sans' thrusts jostled his bones.

"F-ffffuccccck PAP-" The older brother let out a choked sob before spurting his own release all against Papyrus' insides. He continued to let out high moans as wave after wave overtook him, and Papyrus wrapped him up in his big, strong arms and held him close as he continued to cum.

"Yes…a-ah Sans…give it all to me…The Great Papyrus wants it all…"

Sans was overstimulated, but his orgasm wouldn't stop as Papyrus bucked slowly with his dick still inside of him, milking every last drop that he had. It was so hot, and the very last thought he had before passing out was how grown up his little baby bones was.